Hubbie here.
I see by the ol’ clock on the computer that is 8:34 AM. It’s Saturday morning (Caturday for those of you who read LOLCATS) and the rest of the house is still asleep. My body stays on “get up and go to work” time most weekends and I can’t sleep really late. So it’s just me and the cardinal that likes to bang her head on the office window every morning. Is there bird dementia? Don’t know. I am glad that Lewy’s version doesn’t include throwing himself into the window every fifteen seconds. The bird is annoying enough and though Lewy has lost weight he still outweighs the bird by at least 150 pounds.
Long time readers know that I don’t post as much as I used to. (Funny. It seems like a long time but it’s been less than 4 months.) Stage seven LBD is just not funny. There are moments. This morning I made coffee and Lewy made noise. I approached and he had is eyes almost open. I asked if he wanted anything.
“Yeah I need a quart of water.”
“OK. Would you like me to check your oil too?”
I smiled. Lewy stared. When I got back with the water he was sound asleep.
The curtain falls and time passes.
Lewy called and has now had the glass of water plus a glass of diet coke and a glass of buttermilk. He was very specific about the latter.
“Not sweet milk. Buttermilk!”
“Yes, Sir.”
Sweet milk, for those of you not around here, is whole milk. Old time southerners only believe in sweet milk and butter milk. Low fat milk is does not come from a cow. And Soy milk? Well that is obviously a sign of the End Of Time. In fact, I believe that if you look closely in some of Bosch’s paintings some of the demons are drinking soy milk. I have been allergic to milk fat all my life so to me they all taste like water with mucous added. The only difference is the ratio of water to mucous.
I now pause for Pauline to get her stomach out of her throat after reading that last bit.
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During the pause the dogs asked to go out, so we did. Pauline is no longer in bed so she is either in the shower or she has had her own private rapture. Knowing her religious bent I’m betting heavily on the former. Now where was I? Oh yeah.
Late stage LBD just doesn’t lend itself to humor the way the middle stages do. Lewy still has a way with words .
“I need some laundry over here!”
But they tend to be just random statements
“I’m trying to get this harness off.”
Not something you can build a story around
“Why do I always get this f***ing damned ol’ dodge?”
I thought that one was a reference to a car but Pauline assures me that it is a financial deal.
I do write some serious musings and messages but they tend to be for Pauline’s eyes only. It is up to her if she wishes to share them; maybe in the book version. I wrote one piece that was basically a collection of jokes and gave that one to her. It was titled A Priest, A Rabbi and A Lewy Walk Into A Bar. You will notice that you have not read that piece thus proving that Pauline is not only a pretty good writer but a Pauline is a wise editor as well. I’ll try and conjure up an image from the past to share with you; something to provide a break from the stage seven blues. In the mean time I leave you with this. It’s not a joke. It’s a true story. So I’m told.
I rear-ended a car this morning.
So there we were alongside the road and slowly the driver gets out of the care and ……………you know how you just get soooo stressed and life seems to get funny?
Well, I could not believe it!! ……….he was a dwarf!
He Stormed over to my car, looks up at me and says. “I AM NOT HAPPY!!”.
So I looked down at him and said, “Well, which one are you then?”
That’s when the fight started.
1 comments:
pearose said...
You're too funny for words, so I'll just sit here and laugh at your wit.